Flint Winter looked at her new outfit in the dusty mirror of the supply village's small clothing shop. She doesn’t like choosing clothes much, so all her clothes are picked by Spark.

Flint twirled once, the soft warm fabric swishing around her legs. "It's perfect," she said, a rare smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Spark."

Spark crossed his arms and looked away, his cheeks tinged pink. "Don’t mention it. It's just... adequate," he grumbled, though his golden eyes kept darting back to her.

Although he intended to buy her a pair of suitable shoes, after finding the right shoes, his spare clothes no longer seemed appropriate, and she also needed a warm coat…

As the third prince of the Lumin, this amount of money means nothing to Spark. The only thing that made Spark feel uneasy, in a way he couldn't explain, was how stunning Flint looked in the well-fitted clothes. The fact that he couldn't pinpoint the reason stirred up a bit agitation.

The village bustled around them, the aroma of freshly baked bread mingling with the earthy scent of livestock. A group of children ran past, their laughter echoing off the weathered buildings.

"Adequate?" Flint raised an eyebrow. "You spent quite a bit on it for 'adequate'."

Spark's ears twitched in irritation. "Well, we can't have you looking like a vagabond, can we? It would reflect poorly on me."

"Of course," Flint said, "you look noble."

Spark's ears perked up at the compliment, despite his best efforts to remain aloof. He cleared his throat, trying to mask his pleasure. "Well, naturally. I am a prince, after all. Maybe you’ve guessed."

The word 'prince' was not a familiar one to Flint, but she was too indifferent to bother asking its meaning. Flint nodded absently, her attention already drifting to the bustling street outside the shop.

A merchant's cart rattled by, laden with colorful fruits and vegetables she'd never seen before. Her curiosity piqued, she stepped towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Spark asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

"To explore," Flint replied simply, her black eyes scanning the unfamiliar sights and sounds of the village.

Spark followed her out. The sky is turning a deep shade of purple, the moon barely visible as it begins its ascent into the darkening sky. The villagers are gathered in the center of the village, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of torches and bonfires.

Houses and shops are adorned with twinkling lights and festive Winter Solstice decorations, while the snow from yesterday glitters under the light of the moon and torches.

“The Winter Solstice is as important as the New Year!” Flint heard an elderly person next to her say this to a child.

The street is a flurry of activity as the vendors rush to set up their colorful stalls, each one adorned with an array of goods: fruits, grilled skewers, candied hawthorns, fabric doll, and other items that Flint has never seen before. The vendors work quickly, their expressions focused as they arrange their goods in an enticing display.

The aroma of grilled meat made Spark swallow his saliva as the nature of a wolf, and then he realized that neither he nor Flint had eaten lunch.

Spark's stomach growled audibly, and he quickly tried to cover it with a cough. Flint glanced at him, her expression unreadable.

"Hungry?" she asked, her voice neutral.

Spark huffed, crossing his arms. "I suppose we should eat something. For your sake, of course."

Flint nodded, aware of the fact that she didn't have to eat. She couldn't explain why, but she chose not to tell Spark about this unbelieable fact. She could sense his discomfort and chose to play along. "Yes, for my sake. What do you recommend?"

Spark's golden eyes darted from stall to stall, clearly torn between maintaining his princely demeanor and succumbing to the mouthwatering aromas wafting through the air. Finally, he pointed to a nearby vendor grilling skewers of meat.

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"Those look... acceptable," Spark said, trying to sound nonchalant as he led Flint towards the stall. The vendor, a jovial man with a round belly and ruddy cheeks, grinned at their approach.

"Welcome, young ones! Care for a taste of the finest spiced lamb in the village?" He asked as grilling the meat skewers. On red pine wood sticks as thick as a finger, the meat glistening with savory juices.

Spark's stomach betrayed him again with a loud rumble. He coughed, attempting to cover it up. "We'll take two," he said, his princely tone slipping as he eyed the food hungrily.

Spark refrained from ordering more, thinking that Flint might want to try something else from the variety of food stalls available.

Flint's hand reached out to grab another skewer from Spark, his eyes focused on the delicious food in front of him. Unbeknownst to either of them, a tiny pine needle flew by and escaped their attention.

The sound of the pine needle flying through the air was barely audible, overshadowed by the bustling noises of the village market. But Spark could hear the sizzle of the meat on the grill and the chatter of the vendor and other customers around them.

The sharp and precise pine needle sliced through the string of the money pouch, and the falling pouch was caught in mid-air by the agile and nimble little boy, who dashed out from the bustling crowd like a shooting star.

Spark's eyes widened as he felt a sudden lightness at his waist. He whirled around, catching a glimpse of a small figure darting through the crowd.

"Hey!" he shouted, his voice rising above the market's din. "Stop, thief!"

Without hesitation, Spark took off after the boy, weaving through the startled villagers.

Flint, still holding her untouched skewer, watched for a moment before following, her movements fluid and unhurried.

Two legs are too slow! The realization hit Spark like a bolt of lightning, urging him into action. Without hesitation, he shifted into his prototype form - an Inferno Wolf with sleek, obsidian fur and blazing golden eyes.

With powerful strides, he tore through the air like a flash of grey-black lightning, leaving a trail of dust and sparks, along with his belongings and clothes scattered in his wake. He couldn't even recall where he had dropped his skewer in the chaos.

“Wolf!” Someone in the crowd let out a shout.

Arriving in a calm manner, Flint collected the clothes and luggage Spark had left behind, addressing the onlookers as she did so, “That’s just my big dog,” she explained, “he must have gotten loose. I'll go tie him up now.” Her quick actions prevented a larger disturbance from occurring.

The revelation that Spark was actually a wolf came as a shock to Flint, but it only lingered in her heart for a brief moment. She composed herself quickly and moved on without dwelling on it.

The boy was a blur of motion, his legs pumping furiously as he rounded the corner. Spark, now in his Inferno Wolf form, followed closely behind, his sleek grey-black fur shining in the moonlight like a bolt of lightning.

Every muscle in Spark’s body rippled with power as he kept pace with the boy, his keen senses tracking every movement in the darkness. The night air was alive with the sound of their rapid footsteps, pulsing with the energy of the chase.

With every ounce of his strength, the boy sprints to the edge of a cliff. In a desperate act, he hurls the money pouch with all his might.

But as Spark's razor-sharp claws touch his back, the boy was subdued to the ground, transforming into an lifeless puppet.

Spark's momentum carries him forward, his paws skidding on the rocky ground as he comes to an abrupt halt at the cliff's edge. The money pouch arcs through the air, glinting in the moonlight before disappearing into the darkness below.

A low growl rumbles in Spark's chest as he turns his attention to the lifeless puppet beneath his paw. His golden eyes narrow, confusion and anger warring within him.

"What trickery is this?" he snarls, his voice a deep, guttural sound in his wolf form.

The puppet remains still, its wooden limbs splayed awkwardly on the ground.

As his sensitive nose sniffs at the puppet, Spark can only detect the faint scent of pine in the crisp night air.

Footsteps approach from behind, and Spark's ears twitch. He turns his head to see Flint walking towards.

Flint approaches calmly, carrying Spark's discarded clothes and belongings and her own skewer of meat. Her dark eyes take in the scene - the cliff edge, the lifeless puppet, and Spark in his imposing wolf form.

As Flint's gaze fell upon Spark's luxurious fur, she was immediately overcome with the urge to run his fingers through it.

“You are Spark? Right? Furry little wolf cub.” As she ran her hand over the wolf's head, Flint could feel the warmth radiating from the fluffy fur, and the smoothness of his coat beneath her fingers.

His fur bristled at Flint’s touch as he suddenly remembered that he had never revealed his true identity to Flint - that of a wolf. However, Flint didn’t show any sign of surprise; instead, she addressed him with a humiliating nickname ‘little wolf cub’.

Spark's golden eyes widened in surprise at Flint's calm demeanor and casual touch. He let out a low growl, shaking off her hand.

"Don't call me ‘little wolf cub’. I am not little at all. " he grumbled, his voice still deep and rumbling in his wolf form. "And yes, I am Spark. I... I suppose I should have mentioned I am a Inferno Wolf earlier."

Flint shrugged and said, "It doesn't matter. You're still you, furry or not."

Spark's ears twitched in annoyance, but a part of him felt relieved at her acceptance. He couldn't explain why, but he even found himself missing the sensation of being touched by Flint.

He shifted his focus to the puppet lying on the floor. Flint followed his line of sight.

"The thief... he turned into this," Spark explained, nudging the wooden figure with his paw. “And my money...”

"Is at the bottom of the cliff, I assume," Flint finishes, her gaze drifting to the edge.

Flint crouches down, examining the puppet with a curious tilt of her head. Her fingers trace the smooth wooden surface, faintly sensing some intangible forces flowing.

“You mentioned something about cultivation before. Could this be the work of a cultivator? I guess. ” Flint inquired.

Spark's ears perked up at Flint's astute observation. "You're right," he growled, his golden eyes narrowing. "This is definitely the work of a cultivator. And not just any cultivator - one skilled in puppetry techniques."

He paced close to the lifeless puppet, his claws clicking against the rocky ground. "But why target us? And why throw away the money?"

Flint was too bewildered to respond. The aroma of the skewer in her hand suddenly reminded Spark of his own interrupted meal.

Spark's stomach growled loudly, breaking the tense silence. His ears flattened against his head in embarrassment.

Flint wordlessly held out her untouched skewer to Spark. "Eat it," she said simply.

Spark hesitated, but his pride held him back from taking what wasn't rightfully his.

“That is yours.” Although he was swallowing his saliva, he also remembered that Flint hadn’t eaten either.

With no money, this might be their last meal.

Flint shrugged and took a small bite of the skewer, chewing slowly. "I'm not very hungry," she said, offering it to Spark again. "You should eat."

After a brief hesitation, Spark delicately took the skewer between his teeth, careful not to bite Flint's fingers.

"Thank you," he mumbled between bites, feeling a mixture of shame and appreciation bubble up in his heart.

As Spark devoured the skewer, Flint turned her attention back to the puppet. She picked it up, examining it closely in the moonlight.

"We should take this with us…" Before she finished speaking, a pine needle pierced the puppet, reducing it to a pile of sawdust and powder.

Flint and Spark both stood frozen.